Sesshoumaru: The 4,000 Year Old Virgin
by Mahi-Mahi
Summary: The demon faces the sins of his father and finally comes to realize the value of the Tensaiga and what it has brought him. SessRin...Oneshot, short and sweet. Fluff


**Hehe, crazy title, ne? Don't let it fool you, though. This is a cute little idea that hit me while I was taking a shower. Yeah, talk about out of the blue! I _had_ to write it down and go with it. So, tell me what you think!**

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**Sesshoumaru: The 4,000 Year Old Virgin**

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Sesshoumaru. Full fledged _demon_. Wielder of the useless sword, Tensaiga. Ruler of the Western Lands. Conqueror to the evil blade, Tokijin. Ruthless killer of all that opposed his order. Hater of all things human. Son of the great Inutaisho-the strongest dog demon of all time.

And that's all he was...the _son_. He _wasn't_ the greatest. He could only pretend-play leader. Maybe it was true, _today_, he was the strongest-the current supremacy in the lands. Even tomorrow it would remain the same and for many days and years to come. But, he was not the greatest of his era. His father had already grabbed that title-carried it with him to the grave and held it selfishly for all eternity.

Sesshoumaru stood on his ledge, glaring at the moon, contemplating. The two-hundred and ninth anniversary of his fathers demise.

'_Rest in peace...father._' He thought bitterly.

His long, clawed fingers tightened around Tensaiga. _Useless_. As useless as the rocks beneath his feet. He had no need for a sword as such. It served no purpose. He desired power, to be stronger and to gain what was rightfully his.

How was it possible to accomplish such with a useless piece of junk that brought things back from the dead? Why would he wish to bring what was already lost back to life? Unlike his father and brother, Sesshoumaru held no pity for creatures of the world-be they human or demon. Let them all die, for what he could care.

If only...if only his father had intrusted the proper sword to the proper son. Then he could grow in strength, become like his maker. Equal if not stronger. And achieve the correct title he desired-that he _deserved_.

An image of his father came to him in the night. He began to wonder how someone so powerful could have become so pathetically _weak_. Weak under an absurd spell defined as love. For a human.

It had inevitably caused Inutaisho's demise. Only a fool would fall under a spell so ridiculous.

Just like his brother. One would think the half-breed could learn from the sins of the father, like Sesshoumaru had. Using it-the hatred he already harbored for humans-and letting it fester inside, growing stronger until he sauntered on the boundaries of the sane and insane. Even behind his cold shell slept the bloodthirsty part of him that a thousand dead humans could not quench.

He thought of his brother-the bastard whom he could kill and, yet, could not-failed not. Inuyasha had inherited their father's affinity for mortals along with the Tetsaiga. And Sesshoumaru received his untainted demon blood and the damned Tensaiga.

When his father was still amongst the living, long before he died-when he had met the human wench, Izaiyoi-he had asked him what he saw in the pathetic creatures. That perhaps there was more to them than meets the eye, other than weakness and dishonor. And his answer? Inutaisho had labeled Sesshoumaru a virgin. Sesshoumaru had scowled and declared he was growing senile in his old age.

There was bickering behind him-high pitched voice, angry over something trivial most likely. Then a giggle-followed by some shuffling and more bickering.

He turned from his perch on the cliff and walked back to the crackling fire behind him. Past the beast, Ah-un, that rumbled in its slumber-and sat. Resting his back against the nearest and fattest tree.

Nine summers have passed, thirty-six human seasons. He had not changed. He looked at the green demon covered in heavy, brown tweed cloth. Jaken, as well, had not changed. Time passed like the blink of an eye for him. While things around him continued to morph, he remained the same, like a statue.

His eyes found the girl, her legs tucked beneath herself-close to the fires' warmth. Approaching sixteen human years. Studying the fire fly she held captive within her palm. _Blink-blink._..pause..._blink-blink_. The insect flashed its tail and flared its wings.

Rin.

The only positive that had come of the Tensaiga.

She was...a test. An experiment. She had been his attempt to understand things from his fathers perspective-he knew Inutaisho hadn't given him the sword simply to protect him from Inuyasha. There had to be a deeper, intense reason behind his choice... Look at what that kind of thinking had led him to-a dead end. It had gotten him nowhere. It had earned him nothing less than another loyal 'follower' by all standards.

...A follower he couldn't seem to allow harm to befall. A follower he dropped any and all things upon the moment she cried for his help. A follower he seemed to trust more than he trusted himself. A follower, at times, he was unable to pry his eyes away from. A human-and he never held that aspect against her.

He had spent _years_ trying to understand. And, like many other things he had tried to accomplish, had failed.

She followed, worried, prayed, understood and simply adored all things Sesshoumaru. And he allowed this to pass. For, he too, had come to cherish many things-small moments-and comforting gestures that were all things Rin.

She looked up at him, noticing the object of his attention was her. She smiled-warm, inviting and utterly enthralling. Like the sun-he had concluded _this_ truth long ago. It was a good metaphor. Appropriate. She was the sun-bright, pure and vibrant. And he, like the crest upon his flesh, was the moon-ethereal, calm and reserved. Thus, they were balanced.

"Sesshoumaru-samma?" She came to him, knelt by his side-the lightening bug still perched on the tip of her finger. He simply glanced at her in response. "Is there something on your mind?" She asked and placed her hands in her lap as the little light bug flew away.

He remained silent for minutes. Studying the trees on the other side of the fire. He heard Jaken mumbling something about disturbing their lord as he shuffled around the camp-always griping.

She smiled again, albeit smaller and not quite as toothy, when he looked back down to her. Deep brown eyes reflecting the flicker of the fire and the twinkling stars above. Pale skin and pink cheeks. Young and alive and healthy. By his side...always. Unwavering.

"This is the night my father died." Calm, smooth...bland-like always.

Rin remained quiet. Then he felt her hand on his shoulder, small, soft and gentle-understanding. He saw understanding written across her face. No pity, no empathy. And he realized there were times when he almost forgot she had lost that important part of her life as well, her parents.

And then he looked deeper-past the glitter in her eyes, and past the vitality of her youth-and saw something he had always known was there, yet simply chose to ignore it through the years.

Love. Strong, passionate and burning with an endless supply of fuel. For him.

_Damn. _

But, why does he curse it? Would he have truly been able to tolerate her love for another? He would have felt...betrayed for some reason unbeknownst to him.

His gaze intensified, and she began to feel just how deeply he was looking at her-seeing into her soul.

He felt her hand on his shoulder start to tremble, her cheeks suddenly flush and watched as she lowered her eyes. She was not ashamed, simply...afraid? Embarrassed? Nervous?

"I am sorry." A tiny, short excuse of a whisper from her lips. And he knew it was her attempt at passing it off as grief for his dead father. She was not sorry for her love-she was sorry he had to know. To find out-although he had known all along.

She turned her head. Terribly embarrassed with herself-with her blush.

And, without hesitation, he lifted his hand to play a few fingers down her cheek. And, as she turned back to him in shock, Sesshoumaru allowed himself the pleasure of burying his hand in her dark hair-it was like sinking your fingers into the midnight sky. Fathomless, endless, ridiculously soft and beautiful.

She felt his nails tickle her scalp and a couldn't stop the tremor that overtook her body-unable to let her gaze break from his lest she miss out on something important in this powerful moment. Felt as his hand sank lower, brushed past her ear and settled on her slender neck-his fingers dancing at her nape where skin met hair. She closed her eyes and rested her cheek in his large palm. Safe. Warm. Home.

Her eyes shot open. "S-Sesshoumaru-samma?" She mumbled when she felt the pull of his hand, drawing her near. Rin placed a palm on the ground, the small space that was between them-leaning into his touch, guiding her closer. And she couldn't help but delve into his scent-fresh and earthy like the forest.

He watched her pink lips start to quake, her eyes grow narrow and glazed like a pool of water-still holding her curiosity. He heard her breathing quicken and catch in her throat. And he inhaled-flowers and sunshine and happiness. Distinctly all things Rin.

Her eyes fluttered shut as he came that small bit closer and felt their lips collide. Felt her sudden gasp of air and trembling breath. And he showed her a whole new way of feeling with her tongue and lips. Drank in her taste and her feel and the simple fact that she was _his_. And he was amazed at how gentle he had become for this girl.

When he pulled away and looked into the glimmering light of her eyes-he began to realize a truth that had been overlooked for so long.

He had been committing the 'sins' of his father as soon as she had danced into his life-taken a role where he had not thought. Sneaking up on him over the years, right under his clawed finger. He had just been to foolish to see.

The use for the useless sword. The questions of protection and love that had once seemed so absurd to him. It seemed clearer, easier to discern.

And Sesshoumaru finally understood what his father had felt. What he had meant when he was referred to as a virgin.

Sesshoumaru had been a virgin to the emotions of love. An untouched plane in his soul.

He saw it in the light of her smile, the spark in her eyes, her gestures of affection. And now, after this, she would see it as well within him-despite the lack of vocalized evidence. His actions were his proof.

Somewhere, he wondered if his father were laughing at him-or simply smiling in triumph.

But, there was one truth that remained.

Sesshoumaru had never known the touch of love...until he felt her touch.

_Rin. _

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**Oh, I know-too short? Simple, sweet and to the point. Yeah, well it's just a drabble. So...blah! -sticks tongue out-**


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